Courting Dobby
by Twisted Biscuit
Summary: After the events of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Lucius Malfoy has to deal with one or two rather serious problems. His dismissal from the Board of Governors, a rogue Houseelf who knows too much, his shambolic PR... and oh yes, his irate wife.
1. For The Love of a Good Woman

**Disclaimer:** If you think I own Harry Potter you are either very, very flattering or very, very stupid. Or possibly you've spotted me trying on a blonde wig for Halloween and were very drunk. Whichever reason is yours, you are incorrect.

* * *

In all his life, Lucius didn't remember being so annoyed. 

_Not only_ had that idiotic little Weasley girl escaped the clutches of Lord Voldemort unscathed, _not only_ had that bearded, muggle-loving git Albus Dumbledore returned to the school despite his best efforts, _not only_ was he facing eminent dismissal from the board of directors, and _not only_ had that goggly eyed, facially disfigured little twerp that Draco hated managed to escape the King of Serpents, but now he was _also_ in trouble with his wife.

Frankly, he would rather have been in trouble with a Hungarian Horntail. At least with the Horntail he could throw a curse or two and run for it; with Narcissa he was stuck pretending to be brave.

"Would you care to repeat that?" Narcissa asked quietly. She was sitting, cross-legged in an armchair by the fire. The firelight danced off her long golden hair, and off the floor-length black silk dressing gown she wore. Narcissa looked quite thoroughly ravishing. Or she would have, had she not worn an expression not unlike her sister Bellatrix would've worn if she'd been invited to brunch with a Muggle Rights activist and Ronald McDonald.

Lucius had been looking forward to coming home after his horrid day and having her comfort him. Walking in on her as she wore nothing but a silk dressing gown had hardly lessened his desire for 'comfort'. She had, at first, seemed more than willing to acquiesce this urge of his. She'd sent for a bottle of eighteen-year-old malt whisky to be sent up for him, pulled him out of his heavy over-robes sat him by the fire with a drink, and told him to tell her everything. Lucius had been more than willing to oblige. Every word he shared with her seemed to lessen the weight that had been constricting his chest all evening. Even when she quite clearly disagreed with his actions ("You did _what_ to the Weasley girl? For God's sake Lucius! She's eleven! A filthy blood-traitor, yes, but a filthy eleven-year-old blood-traitor nonetheless."), she still managed to make him feel better about the outcome of it all ("You mean to tell me that Albus Dumbledore's pet _bird_ is more potent against the Dark Lord than he is? Well I must say, I'm not wholly surprised…"). She was, without a doubt, his angel of mercy in the entire affair.

By the time his sorry tale was nearly complete, Lucius was feeling very much relaxed. He was even starting to see the humour in certain aspects, and fully expected to feel a thousand times better by the time he went to sleep. Alas, it was not to be.

As Narcissa occupied her armchair like it was some sort of throne and pinned him with a look of sheer fury, Lucius was made very aware of the fact that his wand had been in his outer-robes. The outer-robes which Narcissa had removed. The outer-robes which were on the opposite side of the room.

Damn.

Lucius took a deep breath. "I took the diary from him, only to find that it had been placed inside a filthy sock. Covered in blood, ink, sweat, venom and heaven knows what else." he said, wrinkling his nose and praying that such a foul image would distract his wife from her rage.

No such luck. Narcissa's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Yes Lucius, I was quite clear on that part of the narration." she informed him, her voice like ice. "The part I am less clear on, is what precisely you did with the sock in question."

"I cast the thing aside of course." he said flippantly. "I was hardly going to keep it as a memento, was I?"

"You cast it aside." Narcissa repeated slowly. Lucius was disheartened to note that she looked no less imposing. "And then?"

Lucius cleared his throat and made to stand up. "Really Narcissa I hardly think this is-"

"Sit down Lucius." she commanded.

He did so, cringing. It occurred to him that even the Dark Lord had been forced to put a bit more effort into controlling him than his wife did. Granted, he'd never had the Cruciatus curse administered to him by Narcissa, but her methods of punishment were much more personal, much more painful, and felt for much longer after the fact. Indeed, looking at her now, he thought she could have offered Lord Voldemort lessons on how to look intimidating; as Lucius sincerely doubted that the Dark Lord could look that frightening in a dressing gown.

Pushing aside that slightly upsetting mental image, Lucius turned his attentions back to the matter at hand.

"Am I correct in assuming that the House Elf caught the aforementioned sock?" Narcissa queried.

"Er… well, kind of." Lucius stated, sounding like an eight-year-old child caught with his hand in the biscuit tin.

"Kind of?" Narcissa said. "_Kind of_? How, pray tell, can you 'kind of' catch something Lucius? Surely the creature either caught the sock or did not catch the sock. Which is it?"

"The um… first one." Lucius admitted.

Narcissa clasped her hands together in front of her. On anyone else, the gesture would appear almost prayer like. On her, it was exceedingly obvious that she had only done it to prevent herself reaching for her wand. "I see." she acknowledged. Any trace of kindness or coquettish understanding had evaporated from her voice. As had any hopes Lucius had formerly held about being 'comforted'. "Am I also correct in assuming that the elf you took with you was the very one whose presence Albus Dumbledore requested?"

He was very tempted to respond with a deeply sarcastic '_No it was part of the thirty-strong House Elf entourage I have follow me around everywhere_'. Had it been almost anyone else, he would have. However it was more than his appendages were worth to say such a thing to his wife in her current mood. "It was." he admitted with a nod.

Narcissa's lips were now very thin and she had tented her fingertips. The firelight had ceased make her look alluring, now lending her an ominous air. "Lucius," she said sweetly. "When I first met you, we had rather a lot of disagreements. One of those disagreements was your opinion of House Elves. Now, whilst I do not deny that the creatures are little more than vermin, they are useful. Do you deny this?"

It wasn't a question. It may have sounded like one, but if Lucius had any intention of getting within twenty metres of his wife again then he knew how he was supposed to answer. "No Narcissa." he said contritely.

"No. I didn't think you would. Few can argue the usefulness of a House Elf." she said contemplatively. Narcissa got to her feet and walked over to her dressing table. She picked up a hairbrush and began combing out her long golden hair with it. Lucius watched her go with a feeling of dread. "I was fond of that elf." she said in a would-be casual tone. "Very fond indeed. I spent a great deal of time and effort educating it on my preferences. Whilst it was a high-pitched, subservient, little runt with no real power, it certainly had some measure of personality. Indeed, it was the only house elf in the Manor that one could actually converse with and expect to get a vaguely relevant response."

She shook out her hair. Lucius thought she was being a bit overly-sentimental about the Elf, but he'd be damned if he'd say so out loud. And he meant that literally: She _would_ damn him. He was sure of it.

"Yes. I liked that elf." Narcissa said to herself. She spun to face him, hands on hips. "And you lost him." she announced.

Lucius sprang to his feet, highly affronted. "Come on Cissa, it was hardly my fault!" he exclaimed. "Potter tricked me!"

Narcissa's eyes narrowed again. "I hardly think that being outsmarted by a twelve-year-old is something you should brag about, Lucius." she remarked.

"But… So far as we know, Dumbledore instructed him the entire time!" Lucius said desperately. There were very few people that Lucius specifically wanted to think highly of him, but the thought of Narcissa thinking so little of him cut him to the quick for some reason. His response hardly helped his case, however.

"Somehow I doubt that Dumbledore cared for anything more than the continued well-being of the Potter boy." she stated, not unreasonably. "No, Lucius, I would bet good money that it was Potter and Potter alone you were dealing with. And somehow, you still came off the worse." she cocked her head. "Now, while it is hardly an anecdote you should share at cocktail parties, being outsmarted by Harry Potter is not quite as insulting as being outsmarted by some random muggle-born, for example." Narcissa said judiciously.

Lucius supposed she had a point. Potter had defeated the Dark Lord from the cradle, after all. Comparatively speaking, being defeated by a twelve-year-old wasn't too terribly humiliating. Hell, Potter had even beaten Draco at Quidditch. Something Lucius refused to believe could have occurred in a fair match.

He nodded to show his agreement.

Narcissa also nodded in response. "So now the question is not so much about how you lost me my favourite House Elf, but rather what you intend to do to get him back to me." she said, continuing in the same depressingly equitable tone which belied the fierce glint in her eyes.

Lucius felt his jaw drop. He took two steps towards his wife and attempted to search for some sign of humour on her face. There was none. "You-you can't be serious." he stammered. "Get that little- that worthless- that _Kitchen Rat_ to come back here? You must be joking. Surely, you're joking."

"Do I look like I'm joking, Lucius?" she inquired.

"But… but it… It's just a House Elf!" he snapped. "Why can't you just train another one?"

Narcissa sent him a look of deepest disdain. "I'm going to pretend you didn't ask me that." she said, as though granting him some great mercy by doing so. Lucius chose to believe that, in her mind at least, she was. But he still didn't understand her reasoning.

And he had enough experience dealing with his wife on topics such as this one to know that he never _would_ understand her reasoning. More to the point, he had enough experience to know that if he didn't do what she asked, a vengeance would be brought down upon him, the likes of which most men could only imagine. The Wrath of Narcissa Black was not something to be taken lightly.

Lucius stared at his wife for a few more moments, trying to think of an alternative, before he sighed heavily. He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Fine." he said, not quite prepared to open his eyes just yet. Maybe if he kept them closed them what he was agreeing to would seem a little less humiliating. "Fine. You win. I'll try to get the Elf back. Tomorrow." At last, he opened his eyes.

Narcissa's hands were still on her hips but the fearsome look she had previously worn was now absent. Instead she was regarding him with affection, amusement and not-a-small-amount of triumphant glee. Which was a definite improvement, to his mind.

Lucius perked up a bit. "Of course, it doesn't change the fact that I've had a terrible day." he said tentatively. Narcissa was happy with him now, after all… "And tomorrow isn't looking much better at this rate." he added.

A wicked, feline grin appeared on his wife's face. "Mmm." she acknowledged in a low purr. She allowed her hands to slide down so that they rested on her thighs. Lucius followed their trail across the black silk with unabashed interest. "And," she continued. "I suppose you are lowering yourself so very much, all for me."

"Yes… yes I suppose I am." Lucius said distractedly, still staring openly. Narcissa cocked her head to one side and sashayed slowly over to him. Lucius felt his jaw drop at her sudden change of mood.

"You certainly are." Narcissa whispered seductively, placing her hands gently on his chest. "What sort of wife would I be if I didn't show my appreciation? Hmm?" Her hands slid up onto his shoulders.

Lucius made a noise of agreement. He would have dearly loved to say something witty or charming at that particular juncture, however his blood had somehow stopped flowing in the direction of his brain from the very second she put her hands on his chest.

A fact which Narcissa seemed to enjoy. An enigmatic smirk had appeared on her face. She snaked her arms around his neck and stretched up so that her face was inches from his own. The scent of jasmine assaulted him as she did so, and Lucius found himself quite unable to think clearly. Something which was just fine with him, given the direction his evening seemed to be going in. "I'm sure I could help you… relax." she murmured in a husky tone. "Would you like that Lucius?" she asked, pressing herself against him.

Since he was about three seconds away from groaning in submission as she asked, Lucius thought the answer was pretty obvious. He nodded once, somehow managing to suppress any whimper-like sounds that may have escaped his lips.

Narcissa smirked wider. She bit her lip gently, and lowered her head so that he could feel her breath on his neck. It sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine. Her lips were less than an inch away from his ear when she whispered…

"As if."

Lucius was left blinking at thin air, as the heavenly creature that had been pressed against him moments before suddenly vanished.

Narcissa was stalking over to the bed. She snatched up his outer-robes and thrust them towards him. "You can sleep in the guest quarters tonight." she told him coolly. "Actually you can sleep in the koi pond tonight, for all I care."

Lucius felt like a bucket of ice-water had just been dumped on his head. He gaped at his wife. "Excuse me?" he asked incredulously.

Narcissa glared at him. "Was I somehow unclear?" she asked. "Get out. Get of my bedroom, get out my quarters and get out of my sight. Now." And with that she turned on her heel and swept towards the dressing room.

A stunned, annoyed and intensely frustrated Lucius watched her go. "I knew I should've married Bellatrix instead." he muttered. "Yes, she's insane, not nearly as attractive, and would have probably killed us both by now, but behaviour like this _certainly_ wouldn't have been an issue…"


	2. Good Women Require Good Tea

The next morning, Lucius was sitting in the dining room, feeling the desperate urge to curse something.

He had been quite unable to sleep the previous night. The beds in the guest quarters were perfectly luxurious, of course, but the fact remained that none of them were _his_ bed and as such he could not sleep properly in them. Besides, it had been well over twelve years since he'd slept in a bed without Narcissa beside him. The last time had been shortly after Draco's birth; she had stated, quite resolutely, that he was never coming near her again. In fact her exact words had been "From here on out, any part of you that touches me you're not getting back." (It had been a difficult pregnancy.)

She had lasted less than a week before welcoming him back. In the twelve years since he had not once fallen asleep without his wife there beside him. She was nothing short of essential to his continued ability to rest. Every time she would slip into bed beside him, all the various hindrances to his relaxation would melt away, leaving only his bed, his wife and anything else he happened to feel smug about. He was, therefore, quite aggrieved sleeping without her there.

Though lack of sleep was hardly the _only_ thing to incite Lucius's ire that morning.

He had received two rather irksome owls that morning: The first was from the Hogwarts Board of Directors, demanding his attendance at a meeting that afternoon. A meeting which was no doubt set up to address his immediate dismissal. Lucius wasn't particularly concerned about this, but it was irritating all the same.

The second, much more distressing letter had been from his own son. Draco wanted to know why Dumbledore was back, why the Weasleys were simply alight with happiness and why Slytherin was going to lose the House Cup, _again_. His son was obviously more enraged by that last part than any other; as Draco had frequently mentioned how much self-restraint it had taken him to refrain from killing the Defence teacher that year and he rightly felt that Slytherin deserved the House Cup for his troubles.

All in all, Lucius felt quite ashamed of himself.

Added to all that he had to hunt down a bloody House Elf and beg it to return to his service. Frankly, Lucius felt he should be commended for the fact that he wasn't having a stiff drink with breakfast.

He re-read the letter from the Board of Directors to double check the time and place for their afternoon meeting (Four O'clock, the Conference Room at the Leaky Cauldron - which Lucius took to mean "That back room nobody uses"), then he took a sip of his tea. He thought it tasted ever-so-slightly bitter, but it was entirely possible he was just imagining such things as a result of his foul mood. Putting the cup down, he sighed and rubbed his eyes. It was going to be a very long day.

A noise on his left caused him to snap his head up; a move which was not recommended for those who had just slept in a strange bed. He winced at the pain in his neck but zeroed in on the source of the noise, all the same. It really wasn't that hard to determine. Narcissa, uncharacteristically dressed in muggle clothing, had just taken a seat beside him and started helping herself to breakfast.

Lucius eyed her suspiciously.

Her muggle clothing was consisted of a floaty silver blouse and a black skirt. Her hair was perfectly coiffed and she looked, for all the world, like someone who had just enjoyed a fine and restful night's sleep. The self-satisfied old hag.

"Oh Lucius, do stop glaring at me as though I've just snapped your favourite broomstick in half," she sighed, finally looking up from the French Toast she was serving herself. She was looking at him with a magnanimous smile playing about her lips.

Lucius scowled at the cavalier harridan he had somehow wound up married to. "Terribly sorry, darling," he drawled. "I do hope my behaviour hasn't doomed you to an unpleasant day or anything."

Narcissa had the good grace to look a little apologetic. A _very_ little apologetic. A _Blink-and-you'll-miss-it_ apologetic. Still, it was the most he was going to get. "Lucius," she said calmly. "I want you to know that I've been thinking. There's a chance I over-reacted about the House Elf incident."

"Oh _really_?" he exclaimed. "What an interesting conclusion to reach. Please, do tell me how you came up with this radical new-"

"Don't push your luck, Lucius," Narcissa said crisply, as she poured herself some orange juice.

Lucius broke off, muttering inaudibly to relieve tension, rather than ranting outright as he'd intended.

Narcissa nodded in appreciation. "Good boy," she said, patting his thigh approvingly.

Lucius looked down at where she'd touched him. The warmth of her hand had gone straight through his robes, cutting through the unnatural cold that settled on him whenever he hadn't slept. He was absolutely certain she did it on purpose, the diabolical shrew.

"Now," his wife continued, acting as though she hadn't just deliberately taunted him. Damnable woman. "I have charity auction to attend in London at eleven o'clock and afterwards I have lunch plans." Narcissa looked mildly horrified at the prospect of the latter. "We can discuss the House Elf situation tonight. Perhaps we'll purchase a new one, or re-educate one of the existing elves, or some such. Anyway, you shall not be forced to reacquire that Dobby creature. Does that sound agreeable?"

Lucius sighed with relief. "Certainly." he agreed. "Though I am still of the opinion that you are overreacting to the entire affair."

Narcissa looked unaffected by this small jibe and poured herself some tea. She always poured her tea before eating, to give the brew a chance to cool. She was quite insane in that manner. "Yes, well, I was of the opinion that you were overreacting to the news that your son lost a Quidditch game to Harry Potter, however I had the good grace to keep quiet on the subject," she told him blithely.

"Well he was obviously cheating!" Lucius snapped angrily. "Nobody's ever beaten Draco in a fair game, and you know it!"

Narcissa rolled her eyes. "Yes, and the Slytherin Quidditch team has _never_ cheated in order to win, have they?" she commented.

Lucius growled. "Well it's different." he said. "And besides, when _I_ was overreacting, I didn't make you sleep in the guest bedroom!"

Doing very little to lessen Lucius's indignation, Narcissa scoffed. "Well of course you didn't." she said dismissively. "You wouldn't dare."

"I really do detest you on occasions." Lucius snarled at her. It was _his_ bloody house. He'd lived there since the day he was born. His great-great-grandfather had built the sodding place. It was _his_ house, and _she_ was of the opinion that he wouldn't dare throw her out of their bedroom.

Narcissa quirked an eyebrow. "Oh really? Well then, I suppose I won't bother going to that ladies' lunch at Phyllis's." she said tauntingly. "That ladies' lunch that will be attended by the wife of every single member of the Hogwarts Board of Directors, and will occur approximately two and a half hours before your little meeting." A smirk appeared on her face, as she daintily started eating.

Lucius blinked a few times, allowing her statement to sink in. "You.. How can you… How on Earth did you know about that afternoon meeting, when I only found out a minute ago?" he asked, bewildered.

Ever the aristocratic lady, Narcissa finished chewing before answering. "Do you remember Delphinia Arbour? That Australian witch?"

Lucius did, indeed, remember her. It was rather hard to forget a woman with a voice like a fog horn, who wore robes that were designed to hug every curve and were made in colours that could be seen from space. More to the point, he remembered Narcissa pointing her out at a dinner party, and informing him in an undertone that she was 'Henry's bit of stuff' - Henry Britten, the Secretary on the Board of Directors, who was quickly approaching his centennial, and who was married to a woman that was often mistaken for a prune and spoke of nothing but her beloved pet Krups. Shortly after Lucius had discovered her identity, Delphinia Arbour had propositioned him. In response, Lucius had done what any man would've done in that position: He turned a whiter shade of pale, went off to find Narcissa, and stayed glued to her at all times until they went home, while silently thanking whatever Gods may be listening that he had his wife there to protect him.

Lucius shuddered at the memory.

"Ah, I see you do remember her." Narcissa commented, looking clearly amused and just a bit smug. "Well, it seems that dear old Henry went and broke her heart when he didn't leave his wife for her. And so, Delphinia rigged his writing desk."

Lucius stared. "Pardon?"

Narcissa carried on, insouciantly. "She rigged his desk. She used some new product from Hong Kong, or Singapore, or _somewhere_. Anyway, whenever he writes something at that desk, a copy of what he writes appears on a slate she has at home. She was planning on using it to show his wife when he got a new Mistress, in the hope that his wife would divorce him, he would assume his new Mistress was responsible, and he would then go running back to her." She said, in a completely matter-of-fact tone. "Naturally, I would've been more amused if she'd intended on using it for revenge against the cadaverous old fool, but it takes all kinds I suppose."

The fact that his wife saw any vague logic in this woman's actions, worried Lucius just a bit. But he chose to overlook that. "Fi-ine." he said slowly. "But that still doesn't explain how you knew. It simply explains how she knew."

Narcissa sighed, and sent him a 'Gosh, you are so adorably stupid' look. "I know, because she _told_ me, Lucius." she said simply.

"But… But why would she tell you?" Lucius was becoming increasingly frustrated. Normally he found the politics of his wife's social circle interesting, or at the very least amusing, but in his sleep-deprived state, it was simply irritating.

"She told me, because she thinks that by telling me she is doing me a favour. By doing me favours, she is getting close to me. And, in her mind at least, by getting close to me, she can get close to you. By getting close to you, she is creating the possibility that you will be ensnared by her womanly wiles, fall madly in love with her, and buy her pretty things." Narcissa explained patiently.

A wave of nausea hit Lucius upon hearing this statement, causing him to cover his eyes with his hands.

Seemingly immune to his disgust, Narcissa continued. "The point is, she contacted me this morning and told me everything. She also informed me that, while your dismissal has been unanimously agreed upon," her tone changed from explanatory, to scheming. "Many members of the Board have the strange idea that you only behaved in the manner that you did, out of concern for you only son."

Lucius looked up instantly.

Narcissa was smirking nefariously at him.

It was moments like that which made Lucius realise why he simply could not have married anyone but Narcissa - She was the only woman he had ever encountered who had both a mind that was so inescapably unscrupulous, and a manner that was so undeniably aristocratic. She was also the only woman he had ever encountered whom he could imagine loving her son as desperately as Narcissa loved Draco, and also feeling perfectly comfortable using said son's existence in such an utterly self-serving manner. Oh this was just perfect, Lucius thought complacently.

If he and Narcissa played the part of doting parents who were oh-so-repentant, then he would be dismissed from the Board on good terms. A year or so of apologetic behaviour, and they'd be begging him for his counsel, just as they had before his official appointment to the Board of Directors. For the two years following his first advisory session, he would be invited to innumerable dinner parties and events, and then all he had to do was wait for one of those doddering old fools to drop dead, and he'd be back on the Board of Directors with a pat on the back and a celebratory cocktail party. Probably just in time for Draco's sixth year, if he played it properly. Oh yes, this was perfect, all right. Especially considering the fact that it was hardly difficult for him and Narcissa to play the parts of doting parents, since that was precisely what they were most of the time.

A smirk tugged Lucius's face, matching his wife's. "You devious little strumpet." he said appreciatively.

"Oh? Am I to take this that you no-longer detest me?" she asked, as she polished off her French toast.

"Don't get me wrong, Narcissa, there's still some lingering resentment." Lucius said in his most serious tone. "However there is a definite possibility that this revelation has once again tipped the scales in your favour."

Narcissa arched her brow, and set about reorganising her table setting, so that her tea was directly in front of her. "Well," she started, picking up her porcelain teacup. "I should be able to have the entire Lunch Party sympathising with me without too much trouble. All I need to do is tear up slightly while telling the story, become extremely high-pitched while uttering Draco's name, and then '_pull myself together_' and they'll all be eating out of my hand. Work's every time." she informed him, before taking a sip of tea.

Lucius wracked his brains, but could not, for the life of him, recall an instance where Narcissa had been forced to engender sympathy from her peers. He was about to ask her when she had discovered this little trick, when he saw her expression. The question died on his tongue.

Narcissa was sitting, with her teacup held a few inches from her mouth and a sour look on her face. She stared at it for a moment, before taking another tentative sip. She then grimaced, placed the teacup down, and folded her arms in annoyance. Lucius suspected that this did not bode well for him.

"Er… something the matter, darling?" he asked in a would-be casual tone.

Narcissa was rather preoccupied, pinning the offending teacup with a glare and did not respond.

"Narcissa?"

"This tea is wrong." she stated without looking up. She wore an expression of such heartfelt candor and honesty, that Lucius doubted she was faking, simply to make fun of him. Her arms were folded tightly across her chest, in a position her son had adopted many years ago as his "bad things are going to happen because of this, y'know" pose. The innocuous, amber liquid sat placidly in the cup with the occasional coil of steam snaking up from it, but still Lucius could not see anything particularly wrong with it. Had it been green, then he could understand her distress, but as it was...

Lucius stared at the tea.

He then stared at his wife.

He then resigned himself to the fact that nothing was ever going to make sense ever again. "How, precisely, can tea be wrong, Narcissa?" he inquired.

"It's just… wrong." Narcissa said again. "It's bitter. And it's not strong enough. The House Elves made it wrong."

Lucius sighed.

Narcissa looked over at him. "I'm not saying that I've changed my mind or anything." she informed him, prissily. "I was simply that… that…" she took a steadying breath. "I am going upstairs to collect my things." she said in a stiff tone. "Then I really must be going to this auction. Is there anything you want in particular? I understand that Horace Slughorn donated a few items from his private collection."

"Anything you want." Lucius said, without particular interest. He had taken up Narcissa's earlier activity, and was now gazing at her teacup with the utmost interest. It was the first time in many years that Narcissa had left the breakfast table without finishing at least one cup of tea, and Lucius had no idea why. He simply knew that it was not in the usual way of things.

When it came to his home and his wife, Lucius Malfoy was exceptionally fond of the usual way of things.

"Very well." Narcissa agreed offhandedly, getting to her feet and adjusting her outfit. "I should be finished by the time your little meeting is over. Would you care to meet for dinner?"

They spent a few moments, arguing where to go for dinner, before finally agreeing upon a restaurant in Paris called _Enchanter_. It was, technically, in Muggle Paris, however its clientele was almost entirely magical, as it looked like a tiny and unremarkable restaurant to the average muggle. And although international Apparation was somewhat trickier than the regular variety, it was entirely worth the effort in Lucius's opinion. Particularly if it would put Narcissa in a good mood, as French cooking always seemed to do.

She certainly seemed to agree with his choice, as she was nodding along cheerfully. "Excellent. Seven o'clock?"

"We should definitely be finished by then, yes." Lucius said confidently. After all, the Board of Directors was hardly known for its lengthy meetings. With most of the Board being over ninety, very few of them had the stamina for meetings that lasted more than a few hours. Very often, the meeting was adjourned by the noise of raspy snoring, or by one of the attendees falling asleep in the sugar bowl. If, however, an attendee was to fall asleep quietly and without obstructing the tea set, then all continued as normal. That was just how exhillerating the Hogwarts Board Meetings were.

"Wonderful." Narcissa said, oblivious to her husband's momentary mental digression. "See you then." she stooped to kiss his cheek, and then left for the kitchens.

"Hmm. Yes." Lucius agreed.

His gaze was back on the teacup. The very, very full teacup. It just wasn't right.

The day that Bellatrix was arrested, Narcissa found out at the breakfast table and she finished her tea before doing anything about it. When she had discovered that she was pregnant with Draco, she had read the fact in a letter from Saint Mungo's and finished her tea before telling Lucius, as she knew that he would insist upon immediate action of some kind. Immediate action which might impede her tea-drinking.

With a sigh, Lucius realised that Dobby had probably made the tea. That elf had also made most of the desserts, and run Narcissa's baths, and washed her clothes so they smelt like Jasmine… She really had spent a lot of time making sure that the elf got everything just right. And perhaps it was all that time she spent with it that had led to it's otherwise-inexplicable independent streak. Regardless, he knew that it would make his wife infinitely more pleasant to be around if everything was done just as she liked it.

And Lucius got the definite impression from his son's letter that he would be needing at least one family member to be pleasant around him over the coming months.

Besides, he really had been foolish in losing the elf. Dumbledore had requested its presence, and Lucius had agreed without question. Mostly because he was rather furious that Dumbledore was daring to give him orders in the first place, and also because his burning curiosity at just what Dumbledore was doing back at Hogwarts would have compelled him to do pretty much anything, so long as it got him an explanation. Which was an act of unrivalled idiocy, now that he thought about it.

Also, the amount of dirt that elf could probably dish on him now that it was free was enough to make him cringe. Nothing particularly illegal, but certainly quite a bit that was frowned upon in polite society, and which would irreparably damage his chances at getting back on the Board of Directors. Actually, it would irreparably damage almost all of his current endeavours. And so, it had to be dealt with.

He had to get the blasted thing back. He had to go chasing after a House Elf.

Groaning to himself, Lucius got up and headed for the Entrance Hall, where there was a fireplace designed specifically for use with the Floo Network. It was going to be an extremely unpleasant day, Lucius decided.


End file.
